


Descent

by firelord65



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark!Rey, F/M, Fall from Light to Darkness, Implied Torture, Our baby's gonna be a Sith, Primarily focuses on Rey TBH, Prompt Fill, Slow Build, Torture, non-TLJ compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren begs Rey to join him, to let him teach her the ways of the Force through the Dark Side. She says no, but months of fighting and struggling with herself leads her to question just what she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from an Anon: If you still want reylo prompts, pls do one where rey accepts his offer to teach her. thank you
> 
> Whoops I turned this into agony and sadness building to her accepting his offer rather than accepting right away. Here you go. Also some Force Bond between Rey and Kylo because we all really want that to be a thing. 
> 
> Broke it into chapters because I got caught up with what I was writing and really wanted to flesh out the ending part before posting it.

"I could show you the ways of the Force!" His eyes are bright, overeager as he begs her to say yes, to join him.

She closes her eyes, focuses. The universe seems to pivot and crash around her as she feels the temptation to put down her sword, to give in.

A strength flows into her arms, guiding her to strike back and resist his words. "No!" She will not go with him, a merciless killer. She is too bright, too full of light and _hope_ to go with him.

\---

Three months pass and she's still struggling with her meditation. Master Luke insists that it's normal to be unfocused, but she doesn't think he quite understands. Every time that she finds that moment of peace, that balance of _self_ and _universe_ , something upends it all.

A flicker of annoyance, a wave of exhaustion, the sensation of immense desperation. None of it seems to come from _her_ though. Every time she opens herself up to the Force, she becomes overwhelmed by a blackness that she knows isn't hers.

"Patience, young Padawan learner," Luke murmurs when she brings it up again. "You will learn to open yourself up to the ways of the Force." Rey stirs her pudding-like dinner around with her spoon, frowning. She's plenty open, maybe a little _too_ open.

\---

"Your training is incomplete," her master warns her. He's not stopping her, but his distaste for her leaving emanates from him like a cloud.

Rey climbs into the shuttle anyways, trying to ignore the turmoil in her stomach. "Finn's been kidnapped. The Resistance needs all the pilots they can get for the rescue mission," she retorts. It's an excuse to leave behind this island that brings more questions and very few answers.

Luke looks away sadly, caught in some past memory. Her promise to return dies in her throat and instead she shuts the shuttle door behind her. She can't feel bad for the exiled Jedi Master, not until she rescues the only person who ever came back for her.

\---

They're holding Finn in a tiny encampment on some barren moon. Intel tells them that it's some kind of reprogramming facility for prisoners of war and wayward stormtroopers. Intel has no idea that the facility is being guarded by two of the fearsome Knights of Ren.

Rey touches her transport down, and she hears the resistance fighters pouring out, blasters already blazing. Someone screams over the comlink and she can feel the shudder in the Force when they fall. When she hears the sound of breathing mutilated by a vocoder, she abandons her co-pilot without a thought.

Her saber is lit and she's storming across the abandoned landing pad. White armored bodies are strewn across the ground, mixed with the fallen forms of Rey's companions. Her breath hitches in her throat and a slow simmering anger begins to roll in her stomach. She sees the knight guarding the entryway, preventing any backup squads from entering the facility.

It isn't Kylo Ren. Her stomach lurches and somewhere in her mind she knows that it couldn't have been him. Not when she's been so calm; not when she hasn't felt another's rage and anger bubbling up from within, threatening to consume her.

Gunfire from a transport still circling the airspace rains down, trying to drive the knight from his post. It doesn't appear to effect him, his attention locked on the girl wielding Luke Skywalker's blade.

The fight is unremarkable. He is no Kylo Ren and she has grown accustomed to opening herself to the powers of the Force to aid her saberwork. The tingling sensation spreads through her body and guides her strikes until he is crumpled on the ground, his breathing shallow but present.

The comlink crackles again. Finn's cell - and the cells of the other captured Resistance members - has been located, but they've taken significant losses. She's racing inside before the officer is finished speaking, relying on pure instinct to find where they've taken the prisoners.

She stumbles once, twice, before taking a beat to center herself. Reaching for the Force, Rey wishes that it was just a little bit quicker to her beck and call.

_Your training is incomplete_.

_I could show you the ways of the Force!_

Finn is in the next detention block. Rey rallies the attack squad, ignoring the squawk of the comlink in her ear. The cell doors are opened, the captured rebels are hauled out, wounds swiftly checked. Rey searches for Finn's cell and pulls the door open with a sharp tug of the Force.

He's still laying on the cot, staring blankly at the ceiling. Fear, cold as ice, rushes down Rey's spine. She can't be left alone. He can't have given up. He can't have been defeated. She drags him to his feet, whispering his name over and over in a frantic prayer.

Recognition flits across his eyes and she lets go of the breath that had caught in her throat. Forms rush in - the resistance - and they drag Finn to follow the rest of the rescued troops.

The numbers are fewer than expected, but the First Order is not gentle on its captives.

"Release FN-2187 and the prisoners and no one will get hurt," a grizzled voice echoes through the halls.

Rey turns, igniting her lightsaber in response to their challenge. They tried to take away what little she called family. They would not do it again.  "You're the one who should be worried about getting hurt," she spits angrily.

He unsheathes a vibrosword, a dark chuckle escaping from behind the mask. "My master thought you might try to interfere."

Rey bites back a reply and throws herself at the knight. A battle cry tears from her throat as they exchanged blows. In the back of her mind she notes the retreating Resistance squad. If she can keep Kylo's minion's attention then they might just have a chance for success.

"Tell me. Why does he want you alive?" He taunts her, his blade nicking her shoulder. "You must have done something to earn his attention." Another dark chuckle escapes when she replies only with a slash to his leg. "Whatever it was, you'll wish you hadn't. Master Kylo enjoys making his captives suffer."

"Your talking is agony enough," Rey snaps, grunting as she attempts to Force push him off balance. It's like pushing a mountain and she realizes that Kylo Ren is not the only knight with Force abilities.

Another exchange of blows leaves Rey's arm aching. The vibrosword is far more formidable than she'd originally guessed and the knight's skill is much more fine tuned than her own. Her comlink buzzes again. Someone is trying to get her to leave the facility, but she hasn't bested this swordsman. Hasn't exacted her revenge for taking away her friend.

Her attacks become more vicious, more heated. The knight isn't taunting her anymore. His breathing is ragged, even through the vocoder. She tries once more to use the Force, tugging the tip of his sword out of the way just in time for her saber to strike through his shoulder.

His cry of agony brings a smirk to her face.

The vibrosword clatters to the ground and Rey whips her saber out from his shoulder. "You can't…," he pants frantically. "You can't have bested me."

"Check again," she sneers. The blade stabs through his other shoulder, keeping him from summoning his sword to his working arm.

He slumps against the wall, his helmet smacking against the duracrete. A whisper in her mind tells her that he could still be dangerous. He wanted to take Finn away. He was a Knight of Ren and had to be eliminated.

Her blade hovers over his neck. Uncertainty is all she sees in her reflection in the stark black helmet. "You are weak and a coward. You will never-"

Silence falls with a single twitch of her wrist. Pride and a strangled laugh bubble up from somewhere inside her. From the way the Force seems to retract and flush around her, Rey prays it's just nerves. Her connection wavers, uncertainty rushing in over the anger which had overwhelmed her.

Finn's voice over the com is what finally breaks her from her reverie, begging her to please get on the transport. They have to get off this godforsaken rock.

\---

"I don't want to go back to that island," she admits aloud finally after two weeks playing troop transport. They - herself, Poe, Finn, and a smattering of Poe's squadmates - are hunkered down in a cave system that's serving as their next jump point between missions.

Finn frowns, looking pensive. "Don't you need to learn all that Force stuff? Train to be a proper Jedi?"

Rey shrugs, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Eventually, yeah. But I'm doing a hell of a lot more good as a pilot than I would be lifting rocks and meditating," she says evasively.

"I don't know," Poe admits. "Maybe you should go back. You're challenging my rank as 'top pilot' in the Resistance." Finn elbows him in the stomach, laughing.

It is easier to stay. Easier to be Rey the Resistance Pilot than Rey the Almost-Jedi.

_Your training is incomplete._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's descent into darkness and chaos continues as she refuses to return to train with Luke.

The troop transport she's flying has limited firepower. It's the worst part about piloting the damn thing. Poe swoops and whoops to the rescue, picking off TIE Fighters and Interceptors that try to bring down the massive freighter they're travelling with.

She plods along, occasionally pulling off some moderately tough maneuver to make way for the fighter squad. Jealousy burns deep in her stomach, but she squashes it. Better safe in the transport than exploding in a kaleidoscope of fire and smoke, her astrodroid shrieking in panic. Some nights she has nightmares of dying glorious in a planetside dogfight. It makes getting in the pilot's seat the next day almost painful, but she grits her teeth and does it anyways.

It was only supposed to be a temporary thing, flying for the Resistance.

Poe's voice calls over the coms for the rest of Gold Team to regroup and take the front of the caravan. Rey has to reach out to the Force to sooth her churning stomach.

_Your training is incomplete._

She shouldn't feel this way. A Jedi lets their emotions wash over them, accepts them, but does not act on them. A Jedi doesn't get jealous, doesn’t wish their life to be anything other than selfless.

When they land, she goes to find a long-distance comlink. General Leia is surprised by her request to join Red Team, but grants it, provided there's an X-wing open.

A subtle wave of the hand and suddenly Hannah Dirkson finally makes that switch to gunner she kept thinking about. Rey expects to feel much more guilty than she does, but the red-painted helmet that's pressed into her hand only sends bubbles of excitement to her.

_I could show you the ways of the Force!_

There was something to be said about being selfish.

\---

Somehow it's easier to reach out and touch the Force now. Rey meditates daily, still reaching for that balance that her old master spoke of. It wraps around her, blanketlike and soothing. She can sense the lives around her and, if she stretches her thoughts out far enough, the tiny specs that make up each planet and moon.

Flares of anger and fear still reach out to her, but they don't jarr her from her connection. If anything, when she senses those moments Rey is drawn further in, her thoughts expanding to the focal point of that white hot rage, that darkness of fear.

_I could show you the ways of the Force!_

She scowls, her eyes still firmly shut. She doesn’t need the Force to be the pilot she wants to be. A flare of relief and exhilaration spikes nearby. A cursory sweep of the hanger reveals that Finn's just returned from some kind of mission - he's been Leia's favorite to send with the diplomatic envoys - and has just reunited with Poe. The surge of joy between the two friends-turned-more burns brightly, something of a symbol of hope, of normalcy in this whole war mess.

Rey's scowl intensifies. It isn't fair, she thinks. They have each other and all that she has is the damn Force. She swallows the irritation, reaching again into the infinite span of everything. If she could lose herself, lose Rey to the swirling, pulsating, ever present Force, then maybe she would lose the gnawing loneliness and burning envy that had always threatened to consume her.

\---

It's been a year and four months since the destruction of Starkiller base. Rey has climbed the ranks to lead Red Team, something that brings sparks of pride to her and a soft look of sadness to Leia whenever she has a holocall with the pilot.

She's on top of the world, despite the constant waves of insanity that never seem to end. A botched bombing run of a weapons facility leads to half of Red Team getting left behind after the rest of the attack team makes an emergency jump to hyperspeed. Those left behind are at the mercy of the remaining First Order fighters who are utterly merciless in exacting their revenge.

A pair of planetary cannons take down Red Seven and Red Four. The loss burns, but Rey's heart has hardened. There's been so much loss and one can only feel the sparks of life fade to darkness in the Force so many times before it stops hurting.

It isn't cold if it's a coping mechanism.

The comlink is alight with people shouting jump calculations and minimum time to jump. Everyone is frantic to go, the squad a chaotic mess.

Rey's own fighter is trailing smoke and the S-foils aren't budging from their locked positions. She orders the remains of her squad to make the jump, she'll be there as soon as Elthree can find the source of the issues. They streak away and she's left completely stranded on the edge of the atmosphere, careening along as the remnants of the First Order's own fighters trying to regroup.

S7-L3, her astrodroid, bumbles its way out from its socket and sets to work on the malfunctioning foils. Rey can only grit her teeth and continue her slow orbit of the planet. It's her third full day spent in the cockpit and it's only by the grace of the stim shots that she's not falling asleep in the middle of the firefight.

She desperately needs to get going. The planetary cannons had to be ready to fire again and the smoke billowing along behind her is a dangerous red flag. "Come on, Elthree. Don't fail me now," she growls, jerking the fighter into a tight roll to avoid blaster fire. So much for maintaining a low profile.

Elthree whines nervously, its head spinning frantically as it tries to fix the damaged S-foils. Rey took the warning and tucked into a dive, heading closer to the planet's surface. A TIE fighter streams over head, its blaster fire burning through the atmosphere.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit," Rey shouts angrily, squeezing off her own return fire at the fighter. She only manages to scorch them. They're maneuvering to come back around, to strike her down fully, and she allows herself to feel the pulse of fear-driven adrenaline that shoots through her.

Her eyes squeeze shut instinctively as the red blaster fire comes at her, expecting her own return fire to be her final actions. Death doesn't come for her, though. She does not meet her end in a blaze of fuel and flames as her nightmares promised. Alarm bells are sounding in the cockpit and Elthree isn't beeping anymore.

Rey cracks her eyes open, uncertain why she hasn't turned into a fireball. Her ship crashes through the debris field of the TIE fighter, knocking out some other secondary system. But she isn't done for, not yet. Relief isn't a strong enough word to describe the wash of emotions that pour over her.

"Elthree, damage report," Rey barks.

Nothing.

She twists her head and growls in frustration when she spots the carbon scoring where the little droid had last been standing. Rage takes over where anger had been sitting deep in her chest and she wants nothing more than to single-handedly destroy every last First Order ship still in orbit.

_Use that anger, that hatred. Look deep within the flames of fury and find your true strength._

The words are not hers, not Master Luke's, not any of the whispered bits of memory from her clash with Kylo Ren. This temptation is new.

Despite her best efforts, she cannot let go of the anger that has latched onto her. Her fighter whirls about, ready to defend against another enemy. Rey reaches out into the Force and searches for guidance, demanding it. She feels more so than sees the trio of TIEs that have come about, intent on stopping this straggling Resistance pilot.

Her targeting computer is letting off tendrils of smoke and half the screen is just yellow streaks. Rey grits her teeth and fires blindly, her grasp of the Force being her only guide. Even so she hits the center TIE directly, sending it careening to the planet's surface below.

Exhilaration and roguish pride colors Rey's connection to the Force, mottling the clarity it offered her. Her strikes against the remaining pair of fighters go wide, and she frantically pulled into a dive to avoid their return fire.

Twin blasts come up from the planet's surface, slicing neatly over the top and bottom of the body of the X-Wing. Warning shots.

Something crackles across the comlink, utterly unintelligible. Her comms system is yet another casualty. Whoever is trying to talk to her is shit out of luck, much like Rey herself. She looks frantically about her, panic fully setting in over the red-hot rage that had held her. There are more TIE fighters coming up from the half-bombed munitions facility, fresh pilots ready to defend against Resistance insurgents.

Her X-Wing is surrounded within moments, any hope of shooting her way out stymied by another pair of shots from the planet's surface. Her com crackles again and the intent is now obvious. It wasn't some fellow Resistance pilot trying to communicate. It was some Imperial comms officer hailing across all frequencies. Stand down and prepare to be captured.

Her fingers itch on the control sticks, waiting for the moment when she can land and engage the First Order stormtroopers on land. Her lightsaber waited patiently on her hip. She is being forced down, yes, but Rey is not ready to let them keep her there. After all on land there are TIE fighters waiting to be stolen.

Her dreams of a shootout and daring escape by TIE fighter are ruined before Rey can even get out of the cockpit. When she lands on the dusty landing platform, she feels a familiar presence nearby.

Striding from his personal Imperial shuttlecraft is the masked and cloaked Kylo Ren, his lightsaber already engulfed in guttering flame. Rey pulls the hatch release to jump from the X-Wing, but her hand freezes on the cord. Kylo Ren's voice is cruel in her mind, taunting her.

_You should have stayed with me. Then you would not be so weak, Scavenger_.

Darkness overtakes her vision and her rebellion dies in her throat.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey learns exactly what happens when you're captured by the First Order, firsthand.

Kylo Ren interrogates her personally only once. She hangs from her wrists, attached to metal restraints that are just high enough she has to stand on her toes 

"Why do you fight me?" He asks, his voice gruff through the mask. 

She glares at him, not caring if he can sense her anger. She wants him to feel it, wants him to know that she hates him for everything that he and the First Order have done.

Something resembling a chuckle escapes him. "Do you think yourself so perfect? That all you've done has been in the service of your Light side?"

The image of a black-robed knight, incapacitated and utterly helpless comes unbidden to her thoughts. She thinks of squadmates who never made it back to base, of a command unfairly gained. Rey sucks in another breath, her feet starting to ache from the position she's in. She will not speak, she will not give him the satisfaction of engaging with him.

"Even if you do ignore me, you will never escape your imprisonment here. No one is coming to rescue you. And you cannot hide your true feelings from me. Not as long as you remain as you are, untrained with the Force."

_Your training is incomplete._

Rey bites her lip and tries to think of nothing at all. There is no Force connection, she feels none of Kylo Ren's sick pleasure ebbing into the very air between them.

She will be silent. She will be strong until she is rescued or escapes.

Another painful intake of breath. Her eyes close and she puts up a wall between herself and the universe.

\---

She is moved from cell to cell, never staying in one place for very long. Sometimes they wake her first and give her the semblance of dignity, allowing her to walk under her own power to wherever her next destination is. Most of the time there is no warning, just white-armored arms yanking her up and dragging her down the hall, her feet unable to gain purchase. Her voice is ragged from being used only for screaming.

Rey will not talk, no matter the questions asked of her. The faces of the First Order's "best interrogators" blur together. Everything blurs together.

She must not answer their questions. She cannot tell them her command codes. She cannot tell them what cities had Resistance spies in them. She cannot tell them where the Resistance base has moved to. She cannot tell the First Order anything that will endanger her friends, her companions.

After all, if she betrays them, they will not come to save her.

Rey sits silently on the metal grated floor, her wrists chafed and her throat ragged. She does not attempt to meditate, to commune with the Force. If she does, _he_ is there. _He_ is always there, always waiting for her to break, to allow him into her mind.

She sits and breathes, blankly staring into nothingness.

\---

The floor under her moves, disturbing her silent reverie. She hadn't noticed her surroundings during her last move, assuming it was just another change in cells before throwing her back into interrogation. But the motion stirs something in her and Rey realizes she's no longer planetside.

She's in a ship, a shuttle maybe. The grey duracrete walls tell her nothing, identical to every other Imperial cell. The temptation to draw upon the Force is strong, to test and see if she could possibly fight her way to take over the ship, but logic stills the thought. Kylo Ren would not let his pet prisoner be transferred by a half-rate crew. More than likely this was his own shuttle and she would only elicit some new pain by attempting escape.

Her wrists chafe against the restraints and she grimaces. No, escape would not be on the agenda today. And the Force would offer nothing except a window for Kylo Ren to try and extract her secrets.

She settles back, resting her back and head against the wall.

Rey sits in her silence and tries to hold back the hope for rescue.

\---

She is transferred from the shuttle into a larger cell, this one with a bed and 'fresher readily available. Still, Rey doesn't trust it. More than likely she will be shunted back to her usual fare soon enough, left to rot until she dies or the First Order is defeated.

Rey closes her eyes and swallows the thread of hope, casting away the false promise that it brings. She has known hope before. Hope for a family to return, to take her away from Jakku and the harsh sands. And she has known the slow crush of disappointment, of bitter agony as time trickles by and nothing changes.

She has weathered it before and will weather it once more.

\---

The stormtrooper who comes to drag her from her cell is different this time. She is alone, for one, and clad entirely in chrome armor. "Get up," she barks. "Now."

Rey slowly pulls herself onto her feet, warily watching the stormtrooper. "Don't test my patience. I _will_ drag you by your ankles through the whole damn ship," the chrome-plated soldier threatens. Rey has no problem believing that she would.

Rey doesn't dare ask where she's being led. It could just be another ruse, another in the long run of unexpected cell changes and forced marches meant to keep her off balance. When she stumbles in the hall, the trooper behind her shoves Rey back to her feet with just as much roughness as the previous guards.

Her destination is just far enough that her cramped leg muscles are flaring in serious pain by the time they stop. The doorway slides open, revealing yet another interrogation chamber. This one has the same steel grate flooring and slick black walls. There is a single chair and a steel table that Rey knows from experience is bolted down. Her face twists further into a frown at a particularly painful memory, of edges shoved into sides and the chill of metal against her face after a failed attempt to flee.

"I will remove your binders. Any attempts to escape will be met with lethal force," the chrome-plated woman orders. Rey bites her tongue. Her silence is still her only weapon and she will not relinquish it. Not when escape is the closest it's been since she was first taken.

The metal cuffs are removed and Rey lets out a small groan of relief. The victory is short lived, though, as she is ordered to remain standing at attention. It seems easy at first, but the position strains her back and shoulders. She hasn't eaten anything since… her recollection is foggy, but it had to have been before she was put on the shuttle.

She's left alone in the cell, but the "mirror" on the wall as well as the lack of receding footsteps outside breaks the illusion of being alone once more. A laugh bubbles in her chest. Alone. She hasn't been alone for weeks now and yet she's never felt so isolated. Completely at the mercy of these First Order bastards, her days have been entirely the amusement of her captors.

\---

Time seems to drag by for an eternity as she stands at attention, her back rigid and her legs screaming out in exhaustion. Her eyes flicker shut and she catches herself careening forward multiple times. When was the last time she truly slept and rested? Here she was too scared to allow the full darkness of sleep to overtake her, too worried that her defenses will fall and Kylo Ren will slip in.

Rey steels herself for the upteenth time, her teeth gritted in protest and her arms clasped behind her back. They were trying to break her, trying to push her to give up, to accept defeat.

The door finally slides open. The chrome-plated stormtrooper enters once more, joined by a stone-faced woman in an officer's uniform. Rey's eyes flick back to continue staring directly ahead, refusing to give them her attention.

"So you're the one who won't talk," the officer states simply, sounding more bored than intimidating.

Rey swallows, licking her chapped lips. She will not be coaxed into speaking.

"Captain Phasma, if you could," the woman continues. She clearly knew she would get no response before. It had been for show, just to move the interrogation along.

The stormtrooper - Captain Phasma - moves efficiently. Rey is yanked to the table, forced into eye contact with the grey-haired officer.

Then the questions begin. The relentless flood of why's and where's and when's which Rey refuses to answer, refuses to give any glimpse of the Resistance's plans to these murderers. She expects the violent rebuttal from the Captain next to her. After all, why else would a trooper of such rank even be present?

There is no pain, no baton strikes, no armored punches to her gut to coax the answers from bloodied lips. Rey stands in silent attention, her hands curling in fists and her eyes drilling holes in the mirror behind the interrogator.

"Where does your squadron refuel?"

"You're a Commander. Who flies in your squad?"

"Have you ever been to the planet Degobah?"

"Why did you cease your training with the criminal Luke Skywalker?"

Rey cannot control the twitch that comes across her face. The other questions have become routine, a constant badgering for information she cannot give. But the sudden change catches her off guard and Rey scrambles to regain her composure.

"I see we've finally hit a nerve," the interrogator croons. "Let's unravel this thread."

\---

Exhaustion colors Rey's world. The monochrome interior around her seems to fade in and out, grey clouds closing her vision down to single pinpricks before swirling back. Her legs buckle again and her reward is a baton across her bruising stomach.

Even the threat of more pain cannot coax her back to feet and Rey closes her eyes, resigned to the onslaught of punishment she will get.

There is a murmur about stim shots and a groan escapes her lips. Hasn't she suffered enough? Can't they let her collapse, crumple into a ball of pain and misery, and come back to their pointless questioning again?

"--up again." Rey only catches snatches of the words around her. She is hauled again to her feet, but this time her arms are held in the chrome-plated Captain's vicelike grip.

"Rey, just answer one of my questions. Just one and this will stop for today." It's a false promise, it has to be.

"I give you my word." What worth is the word of an imperial officer?

"Tell me why Luke Skywalker no longer trains you." What purpose does that serve the First Order? To know why she left the only Jedi left untainted in the whole galaxy?

"I can call a droid to administer the shot, Commander." Oh god, anything but more stim shots. They made her hands jitter on the control stick, her heart pound in her ears. She couldn't spend one more day in this damn cockpit.

"Answer me, Rey," the voice pleads. She's shut her eyes, mumbling to herself to escape the misery that surrounds her. Her silence is gone, but she doesn't have to answer them, doesn't have to explain herself.

The mechanical sound of a droid wheeling itself into the room fills the air. It beeps out something in binary, the meaning is lost on the girl sobbing quietly to herself. There is the sound of a syringe uncapping and suddenly Rey forces her eyes open.

"No stims, please," she pants, pleading with her tear-filled expression with the woman seated in front of her.

There is no mercy in the officer's eyes. She sits up straighter, ready to pounce on this opportunity that is being handed to her. "Tell me why. Why did you leave Skywalker?"

Rey stifles a sob, but her breathing is still erratic. "I left because," she whispers before trailing off. Her head whips to look at the droid waiting with artificial patience, the syringe filled with the promise for more of this unending hell.

She cannot tell.

She cannot bear to be awake.

She must answer.

"I left to rescue my friend." Her voice is quiet. Fresh tears spill from her eyes and a sob shakes her shoulders. The grip on her arms tightens, forcing her to remain standing, keeping her from crumpling.

"You left willingly?" The questions have not ceased. She has relinquished her one defense and gained nothing.

Exhausted, Rey nods. Her will to resist was crumbling.

"Then Skywalker is alive."

Another nod.

"Speak, girl," Captain Phasma orders from behind her mask.

Rey has no retort to swallow. "Yes, he is alive." It will do her no good to continue to resist. She's shown her hand and her opponents know she is beaten.

"Tell me where he is."

"No." They will have to pry _that_ information from her mind.

"Alright, fine. Tell me, when did you leave?"

Rey wishes her arms were released, that she could wipe away the tears obscuring her vision. Her reflection mocks her and she shuts her eyes again, twisting her head to face away.

The stormtrooper forces her head back where it was, forces her to keep standing at attention. "You said I could rest!" The words are pure rage spewing from her mouth, anger overtaking the nothingness that has been her companion during this whole ordeal.

"Answer the question. When did you leave?" The butt of the baton pushes hard against her bruised stomach.

"I think…it was ten months ago at this point."

"To go on the rescue mission," the officer clarifies.

"Yes."

"This was the attack of the First Order prison complex on the moon of Urdnot, correct?"

Rey bites her lip, wanting to deny it, but relents. "Yes." It was pointless to resist after all. They could just wear her down again and get their answer then.

"And you did not return to the Jedi criminal after this mission?"

Shame causes her face to become flushed. If she had left, if she hadn't been so intent on being Rey the Resistance Pilot, none of this would have happened. She could have trained more, could have avoided weeks of questions, of bruises and bacta-treated wounds.

_Your training is incomplete_.

Rey could have been sitting on a beach, communing with the Force and learning her proper place in the universe. She could have avoided all the pain and loneliness of watching her friends fall in love in front of her. She could have become stronger, learned how to defeat Kylo Ren.

Her thoughts had drifted, her eyes shut. The trooper behind her grunts, yanking her back to stand properly. "Give her the stim shot," the interrogator orders.

Rey screams, finally. "Nooo!" The needle is pushed into her arm and something inside her snaps.

Her mental barrier breaks like a floodgate was opened and she wrenches her control over the Force. It leaps to her bidding, tearing out the needle from her forearm and crushing the droid's outer shell. The syringe follows as Rey's furious gaze glides across the room.

_Look deep within the flames of fury and find your true strength._

Her arms are free and she gestures to the woman across the desk from her. The Force gleefully entwines about her throat, stopping the flow of air to the interrogator. Rey tilts her head and stares as the woman's face pales and her lips tint blue.

"You made me do this," the words spill from Rey's lips, barely a whisper. "You gave your word. No stims."

The woman gasps and thrashes like a fish out of water, her hands trying to tear away non-existent hands. Then, she stops. Her hands fall and through the Force Rey can feel her life ebb away, the tiny pinprick wiped away by the darkness around it.

Rey gasps and falls to her knees, her arms the only thing keeping her from crumpling completely. The Force, voluntarily kept from her for so long, rolls and dances in her mind. The connection _burns_ and she closes her eyes, basking in it.

It is chaotic and terrifying, but she feels _soothed_ by its presence again. She doesn't even care that she can feel _him_ in it, can feel his curiosity and hunger somewhere nearby.

Exhaustion finally claims her and Rey lets herself slip into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking there is going to end up being another chapter, maybe 2, to finish this up? This ended up a lot longer than intended, even doing it vignette-style.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's time in solitude isn't quite what she expected, especially after killing an imperial officer. She tries to stay strong, but time can wear down anyone, especially when they've been abandoned so many times.

No one comes for her. She sits in her cell, staring at the ceiling, completely alone. Rey has no memory of being returned to her prison, set upon a bed with a proper mattress and pillow. Her bruises are wrapped in bandages stinking of bacta, and her flight suit is ragged and threadbare. No one comes to explain what is to happen to her now. She has only the company of her own thoughts and irregular deliveries of food from a slot in the wall. 

The Force has returned to her, no longer pushed away by fierce determination and fear. It flows through her, whispering promises of strength and solace through its power. She's too tired, too broken down to resist its influences. Rey bows her head in a mockery of meditation and lets the tides of light and dark beat against her mind like thunderous waves upon a rocky shore.

If she lets herself go and becomes one with the forces around her, she can escape the hellish reality of her thoughts. It is easier to open her mind and forget Rey the Scavenger, Rey the Jedi, Rey the Pilot. She is no one in the Force. She is a conduit for the will of its unseen power. She doesn’t try to understand its ways or the purpose of it. She simply exists in it.

_I could show you the ways of the Force!_

Her mind skips, jumps, skitters away from his presence in the Force. As much as she tries to float away into the void of nothingness and everything that is the Force, she cannot completely let go. Not when her consciousness brushes against his, when she feels the animosity and passion that envelops his very soul.

Rey pushes away from Kylo Ren’s presence, forced back into awareness of her own actions. Her shoulders are hunched as she squeezes her eyes shut, galaxies of stars bursting in the darkness from how tightly she’s closing them.

She has been broken. She has killed without thought, without mercy.

Rey stifles a sob as her own misery overwhelms her. Once again she submerges herself in the mindless void of the Force, desperate for escape.

\---

The sound of metal scraping is sudden and new. Rey’s head jerks up, her eyes focusing blearily on the source of the disturbance. A slot appears at eye level on the door to her cell. She can see a white helmet and black lenses staring back at her, cold and impossible to read.

“You will follow proper hygiene procedures, prisoner,” a gruff voice barks out. “Your cell has a refreshing unit. Use it.”

Rey blinks slowly, refusing to respond. What’s the point? After all, she’s spent the past days and weeks being drenched overhead by disinfectant washes. She never even considered trying the ‘fresher that was available. She’d thought it would be deactivated, just a ruse for her to fall for before ripping away another false image of normalcy.

“Acknowledge, prisoner,” the stormtrooper orders.

She settles her head atop her knees, wrapping her arms tightly around her. This is just another in a long series of dehumanizing events. She has to stay strong. She can’t let the First Order boss her around for the rest of her life.

Right?

The muzzle of a blaster slides into the opening, pointed just barely above her head. “Acknowledge, prisoner. This is your final warning.”

Rey clears her throat and glares hotly at the trooper. “No.” Her voice is rough and scratchy, but it’s present.

As expected, the trooper lets off a warning shot. The energy from the bolt singes along her scalp, but doesn’t hit her. It’s supposed to terrify her, make her compliant, but it only makes her blood boil.

Rey’s fingers clench into tight fists, her nails digging bloody crescents into her palms. “I said _no_ ,” she hisses through grinding teeth. Her connection to the Force fluctuates in response to her frustration.

The trooper either doesn’t know of her powers or doesn’t care because he continues fearlessly. “You _will_ comply or further punishment will be inflicted,” he says, pausing before continuing in a softer voice. “Don’t make this harder on yourself. Use the damn shower or I’ll be forced to spray you down and withhold meals.”

The memories of painful hunger, of days spent wishing for just one quarter portion rush to her, unbidden. They overwhelm her anger, squashing further rebellion under waves of panic and trepidation. This battle wasn’t worth losing.

“Fine,” Rey breathes, her shoulders sagging. She waits for the sound of the slot closing, but it doesn’t come.

“Now, prisoner.”

“ _Okay_ ,” she growls, shoving herself from the bed to stand. Without another glance to the door, she storms into the ‘fresher and shuts the flimsy curtain behind her. She strips down, grimacing at the state of her clothes. There are smears of blood from a half-dozen bloody noses as well as tears in the fabric from batons and electric prongs. The First Order did not ask questions kindly.

Rey puts her clothes in the sink, hoping a good soak might at least make them seem less grungy. Then, she steps into the shower, flicking the switch for hot water. There’s a slight delay and Rey curses herself for falling for the ruse, but jets of steaming hot finally do erupt from the showerhead. Her eyes close even as the heat stings her healing bruises, sinking into the first bit of comfort she’s found since getting captured.

\---

After the monotony of bathing, Rey just basks in the endless stream of water. It feels nice to just sit under the jets and let them work out the aches in her shoulders that haven’t stopped since… well, since she left to become a pilot.

Her stomach catches and Rey quickly shuts the shower off. It’s just an illusion, this comfort. She’s still a prisoner, still captive while the Resistance fights on against her captors. Water drips down from her as she leans against the shower stall, fighting the bile that’s rising in her throat.

She’s completely failed them. Maybe she hadn’t revealed her command codes and the Resistance had probably changed their base of operation regardless of her being captured, but she’d given up. She’d gotten caught and had broken. Even now she could feel Kylo Ren’s presence in the Force around her, just waiting for her to trip up and let him in, let him discover where Luke Skywalker was hiding.

Swallowing heavily, Rey lets herself sink into the edges of the Force. It has to give her some kind of strength, some kind of guidance.

_Look deep within the flames of fury and find your true strength._

Her fingers curl into the edges of the tiles on the shower stall, clawing at the grout. How was anger going to solve anything? How could she find strength from that?

Disgusted, she moves to step out of the shower stall, pushing the curtain back. She wraps herself in a thin towel, quickly drying her arms and legs. The prospect of putting her soaking wet clothes back on is loathsome, but she doesn’t have much of an option. She starts to drain the water from the sink when a shimmering field of energy appears about her.

Her mind reels, trying to figure out what fresh hell this was. Before she has time to consider it, a voice buzzes through a speaker somewhere in the cell.

“Proper dress is being delivered to your cell. Remain where you are, prisoner.”

Cautiously, Rey hugs the towel tighter to her. Here they are, giving her the closest thing to an escape route, and she is trapped while stark naked. Her hand extends cautiously to the ray field about her, but the arcing current that stabs into her hand is more than enough warning to not press further.

Part of her wonders if there was a Force trick to get past ray fields.

She hears the hiss of the door opening, followed by the click of boots on metal grating. The curtain to the ‘fresher is opened and through it steps a grunt of the First Order, utterly forgettable under his regulation haircut and perfectly pressed uniform. He barely spares her a glance, placing a set of boots and a square of folded clothes on the edge of the sink. A plastic bag materializes from a pocket and her old clothes are tossed inside carelessly.

Rey says nothing, merely watching with narrowed eyes as the grunt walked out of the ‘fresher without a second glance at her. She can see him disappear through the doorway, flanked by a pair of stormtroopers who had entered with him. As soon as the door is secure, the ray field around her vanishes just as quickly as it had appeared.

No more orders come from the unseen speaker. None need to be given. Rey steps forward and carefully considers the black fabric sitting harmlessly on the counter.

_It’s a First Order uniform._

Rey’s immediate reaction is to drop the thing into an incinerator so she never has to see it again. There’s no way they expect her to put this on, to wear the uniform of murderers. It was _wrong_.

Still, she is a prisoner. She can’t exactly ask for a different outfit. They have her over a barrel in every sense of the phrase. Rey grits her teeth and starts pulling on the black attire, purposely avoiding looking at her reflection. If she doesn’t see herself in it, then she can’t be wearing it.

The top button fastened, Rey exhales slowly. There is nothing else to do now but to return to her bed and _wait_. Steeling herself, she reaches once more for the ever-present Force to lose herself.

\---

The uniform chafes at Rey’s neck, the starched high collar keeping her from getting comfortable. She had resolved to keep the jacket off, but soon discovered that they were going to withhold her meals until she was in “proper dress code.” She made it two days before she could no longer ignore the pain in her stomach, even while communing with the Force.

So now she’s wearing the full uniform, jacket buttoned properly and boots laced tight. She has no more pride left to be stung, only mild irritation at the scratch of the collar on her throat when her head tips forward.

There has still been no notice of what they’re planning on doing with her. Her attempts to reach out with the Force to obtain insight have been in vain, but she _knows_ that she’s supposed to be able to do it. The feeling of uselessness chafes worse than the uniform and Rey slams her hand down hard onto the bed. It’s soft and her fist bounces back without satisfying her anger.

_Look deep within the flames of fury and find your true strength._

“What the _hell_ does that even mean?” She bellows, not caring what the guard who is surely monitoring her thinks. Breathing heavily through her nose, Rey reaches out to the Force, _demanding_ it answer her.

The source of life and power in the universe gives no reply, no matter how hard she begs it to.

_Your training is incomplete._

Luke’s words echo through her, but it’s Kylo Ren’s mechanical voice speaking them. Even now, he taunts her. Desperately, she reaches out through the Force, intending to make the goddamn Knight of Ren talk to her in something other than riddles and mockery.

She finds his presence, grips it tightly with all the frustration and passion she has left, and feels it slip through her grasp.

An animal-like scream rips from her chest as her nails re-open scabbed indents in her palms. Why did she have to be so weak?

\---

She senses him, reaches to throttle him, feels him slip away effortlessly.

They begin to dim her lights now, giving her some semblance of night and day.

She opens her mind, waiting for his rage to consume her, waiting endlessly for emotions that do not come.

Her food comes through the slot in even intervals, a measure of time passed.

She touches the minds of the troopers near her, testing to see if maybe _this_ will prompt some new connection to her tormenter.

They give her freshly laundered uniforms every ‘morning’ with ‘breakfast.’

She builds up a wall against him, trying to goad him into breaking her down, trying to discover just why Kylo Ren will not come for her.

\---

Her attempts to tally her days spent in this cell on this ship haven’t been overly successful, but Rey guesses it’s been a month since she was first brought aboard. She thinks that might be what causes the arrival of a squad of stormtroopers to the door to her cell.

One of them opens the door while the rest look more than prepared to shoot her, should she not be as compliant as they want. Rey winces at the memory of past bruises and forced marches down duracrete halls.

“Hands out,” the one at the doorway states simply. They’re holding binders, which they fasten to Rey’s wrists with practiced ease. She twists her wrists, her stomach flipping as the cold steel rubs against healing scars. She’d been afraid of becoming complacent with her situation and this was precisely why.

“Walk,” the trooper barks, gripping her upper arm tightly.

Rey obeys after a moment’s hesitation. It’s enough to earn a jab in the back with a baton, prompting her feet to shuffle faster on the black tile flooring.

Her heart pounds faster as the route becomes familiar. It’s the same route she’d been brought on by the chrome-plated Captain. They are going to interrogate her. _Again._

Sweat beads on Rey’s forehead and she struggles to slow her ragged breathing. All she can think is “ _not again”_ over and over in an endless round, echoing continuously as her feet carry her to certain misery. This can’t be real.

Her head feels light and her vision narrows to pinpricks. Reflexively she reaches out for the Force, struggling to find sanctity within its eddies and folds. But there is no peace aboard this ship, not for Rey.

The trip which felt so long last time is painfully short as Rey’s awareness flickers between herself and the Force around her. Blinking, she realizes that she’s standing dead center in the interrogation chamber, facing an occupied chair.

“Nice of you to join us, finally,” someone say cooly. Rey flicks her eyes to the man standing behind the seated interrogator. The rank on his chest means nothing to her, but he is wearing a coat across his shoulders and carries himself with great self-importance.

He continues to droll on, his tone not matching his intent gaze, “I see you’ve been enjoying your accommodations.” Rey swallows hard. He waits a moment to see if she’ll reply before continuing. “Regardless, we still need some information from you.”

The interrogator clears his throat and glances back at the obviously-higher ranked man. “General Hux sir? I believe it would be most effective if I were to proceed at this point,” he says in a voice which conceals the discomfort that radiates from him in the Force. Rey smirks at that, not caring that the ginger-haired man— _Hux_ —notices.

She regrets it when the general stops everything an hour in to bring in a different interrogator, one who is anything but uncertain. He prefers physical methods and is utterly relentless in his questioning of the Resistance’s members and methods.

The return to agony and numb limbs is worse that Rey had imagined it could be. Her arms are practically wrenched from their sockets as she dangles against the wall. Blood fills her mouth but she’s in too much pain to turn her head to spit it out.

Still the questions come. The promises of comfort and an end to the pain in exchange for cooperation. Her refuge in the Force is almost non-existent and she is dragged back to the present by a slap across her jaw. “Answer the question. Where was the Resistance’s base of operations after the battle of Kashyyyk?”

Rey grits her teeth and sucks in quick breaths through bloody teeth. It’s getting harder and harder to stay focused, to remember why she shouldn’t listen. After all, if she just answers their questions she can go back to her bed.

“Where is the Resistance?” the interrogator grips her mouth, forcing her to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll have moved on. They always move on,” she pants. It’s the truth. After all, they had moved on and forgotten about her. There is no rescue coming. No glimpses of help from the spies she _knew_ were scattered among the First Order officers.

Hux nods to the troopers and she is let down unceremoniously from the wall. “When do they move? Systematically or only after major incursions?” the interrogator asks brusquely, not even looking at her as he steps away to record something in a datapad.

It’s a struggle to sit up with her hands still bound, but Rey manages to push herself onto her feet, leaning heavily on the wall. “Every five weeks for outposts. Quarterly at the main base,” she answers. It is easier to talk now that she can breathe. Her vision is clearing, though the stormtroopers still seem to flicker in and out of focus.

“And locations are chosen…?”

She has to pause to remember exactly. The pain in her arms is still distracting, making her sluggish. “I’m… I remember they sent out scouts. And talked to their spy networks. Figured out where they were in least danger,” Rey manages to convey before having to spit out more blood. “Didn’t ever go near First Order territory. Outer Rim planets mostly.”

Bile rises in her throat and it has nothing to do with the torture. She should feel guilty for this. She should be _stronger_ than this. Her own comfort should be _nothing_ compared to the sanctity of the Resistance’s secrets.

Except after surviving weeks of torture for the sake of an organization that refuses to even attempt to rescue her, Rey just can’t care any more. She has to take care of herself, like always. No one is going to do it for her. Wiping her mouth as best as she can with her shoulder, she stares up at the interrogator. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just take these binders off of me.”

The interrogator perks up visibly at this, waving a hand to one of the troopers. Hux stops them before they get too far. “Just wait. I want more before giving her another inch of freedom,” he grumbles.

Of course the trooper complies easily, but the interrogator is not amused. “The removal of bindings is nothing. She’s still contained within this cell,” he replies in a low tone. “ _Sir_ ,” he adds as an afterthought.

Hux doesn’t look convinced, his gaze flickering between the apparently compliant girl and the pair of troopers on either side of her. “This is your interrogation, Masters, but you will do well to remember your place,” he scowled.

Rey idly wonders if Masters knew what happened to the last interrogator who underestimated her in this very chamber. A giggle rises from her chest and she has to tamp down on the manic rush that’s coursing through her. She still has to seem credible and breaking down laughing on the floor certainly would ruin that image.

The general departs swiftly, giving orders for all information gained to be forwarded directly to him. Before the door has even finished sliding shut, the questions resume. They want to know troop formations, comlink encryptions, any distrust among the higher-ups that could be exploited. Rey feels her temper rising with each question that she answers. The Force matches her with every stilted answer, simmering with barely-contained frustration.

“When are these shackles coming off?” she interjects before he finish his next question. “I’ve given you more than enough information for some good faith.”

He smirks, leaning back on the chair as he sits comfortably. She’s still against the wall, dried blood coating her chin and throat. “All in good time,” he says in a mockery of a comforting voice. “Just answer the questions and everything will work out just fine.”

Rey shakes her head, her scathing glare locked on the man. She can sense amusement coming from him in the Force. He’s getting off at her helplessness, the thought of giving her even a moment of comfort laughable.

She shuts her eyes, ignoring him as he repeats his last question. If he wasn’t going to take the binders off of her, she was just going to have to make him. The decision to retaliate comes easy. “Shut up,” she hisses. “No. More. Questions.”

Rey pushes herself to stand, ignoring the shooting pain down her spine. It only fuels her determination, focusing her grasp of the Force around her. Gesturing with her bound hands, she grips the man and locks his limbs with tendrils of Force power. “You _will_ honor the agreement and take these things off of me.” She must convince him to let her go.

His jaw locks and the interrogator says nothing, though his eyes flit frantically back and forth between her and the cell door. The desire to run burns in her mind, echoing his thoughts. Her blood boils and she tightens her grip of his frame. “You’re not going _anywhere_ , you bastard. Not until you let me go,” she roars. 

The troopers behind her rush to grab her arms to restrain her. It’s a simple matter of concentration and they, too, are immobilized. “If you had just answered the que-” the interrogator starts to choke out before Rey freezes his mouth.

She has complete control over their forms. Their pulses thrum in her awareness and she suddenly feels the everything in the room. The whisper of air currents through the filtration system. The vibration in the plating from the engines. The utter fear radiating from the pair of troopers next to her.

It’s awesome and terrifying.

They are like puppets, waiting for her to pull the strings.

Something tips inside her and it’s not her controlling the darkness at her beck and call. It’s in motion and Rey is only a conduit. Her fingers flex and the binders about her wrists crack to pieces, shards of metal falling to the ground. Then she steps forward - her pain overridden by roiling waves of power - and turns to face the masked troopers.

A slash of her hand through the air brings the pair to their knees, clutching their sides as ribs splinter into vital organs. The Force burns as their lives vanish, surging around Rey’s body. The interrogator whispers a single “please.”

All her frustration-turned-anger seems to erupt and Rey storms towards the paralyzed officer. “That’s right,” words spill from her lips in a red-hot fury, “you beg. Plead. Hope that _just maybe_ there will be mercy.” She is nothing. She is only power incarnate, exacting revenge on a pitiful excuse for a man.

It only takes a single squeeze to crush his skull, ending the man’s existence in a crunch of bone and brain matter. His body still doesn’t move until Rey, chest heaving and mind racing, wrenches her control back over the ever-present Force and drops her hands.

The officer slides off the chair with a slick sound. Rey is still breathing heavily, feeling lightheaded. That couldn’t have just happened. All she wanted to do was scare the guy, show that she wasn’t just some prisoner. And instead… instead…

Rey’s balance waivers. Her hand grasps the table, trying to steady herself. Her legs crumple and she drops to the cold floor, staring at the dead man from under the table. Rey turns quickly, looking anywhere but at the man she killed without hesitation. She has no control. She’s a complete failure as a force-user. And worse even than that…

She swallows hard, screwing her eyes tightly shut. The Force ebbs and flows around her, but it does nothing to soothe the emptiness that seems to swallow her whole.

Numbly, she hears the cell door open. Boots step over to her. They must have figured she was no longer a threat, a small part of her brain rationalizes. Rey ignores them, concentrating on breathing in and out, in and out.

“Rey,” a single word growls through a vocoder.

Her breath catches, her heart pounding. Of course he would come _now_.

The dark figure crouches across from her, silently watching her. Bit by bit she recovers from the shock, shivers and gasping breaths evening out.

“You need a teacher.” Those words from so long ago, still so, _so_ true. 

A single tear streaks down her face.

“Your training is incomplete.” He has pulled the words from her memory with an ease that should frighten her. 

She blinks, looking up at the dark mask blankly. There is nothing within her anymore, only numbness. Kylo Ren doesn’t scare her.

“I can show you the ways of the Force.”

Rey swallows and rubs away the wetness from her face. Her voice hoarse, she whispers, “I killed them. All of them.”

Kylo Ren continues to stare at her, revealing nothing behind his mask.

“And I didn’t even care.”

She expects a snarky remark, a comment of how far she’s fallen. Kylo Ren says nothing. Silence falls between the pair of them and the grating under Rey’s knees starts to hurt.

“I don’t want to feel like that again,” she finally admits.

A tilt of the helmet. “Angry?” Curiosity ripples out from him, the first emotion she’s felt from him since her capture. After weeks of reaching out for any contact at all, the sensation is almost soothing.

“Out of control,” she whispers, shaking her head. Her eyes are pleading, begging. “Please, you have to teach me how to… how to use the Force."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope everything in this chapter made sense! That bit towards the middle where she’s trying all of these crazy things with the Force is her trying out both her powers and to get Kylo Ren to acknowledge her. She spent so long trying to keep him out but now that she’s slowly being consumed by the rage and emotions she felt through him, she willing to consider opening up to him.
> 
> He doesn’t want her like this though. He’s seen how much Light she has held before and knows that he won’t be able to train / turn her until she’s been completely broken down. Hence, waiting until the very end of this chapter.
> 
> Guys, I’m so totally evil. But I love this fic.
> 
> Edit: There is now Fanart of the end scene from this chapter! Eeee!!  
> Check it out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5999509). It's so perfect, guys. I'm in tears (like Rey).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been TOO LONG, folks. Too long without the lovely angst and pain that I adore. I've got at least one more chapter left of this fic to go but please enjoy this update!!

Rey expected to feel something _more_ when she made her decision. She expected to feel soul crushing guilt and regret for accepting guidance from a murderer.

Instead, there is only numbness.

It isn't even a new sensation. Rey has struggled against the void for _so long_ , ever since she was first left crying out for family in the desert sands of Jakku. It's been with her for her entire life, and she's not surprised that it lingers even now when all else has failed her.

She finds herself without anger or even excitement at the prospect of learning from Kylo Ren. It simply is an inevitability that she has accepted. She could have continued spiraling out of control, perhaps meeting her end by means of a firing squad. Or she could give in to the route that would allow her to survive.

All her idealistic fantasies of rescuing the galaxy from the terror of the First Order seemed so foolish. Why should she care about the Resistance? They stood for lies. They betrayed her. They left her to die at the hands of the Imperials. Their goodness and light was for their own kind, not for a lonely girl they borrowed for a year or two.

A spark of anger flares before subsiding to a smolder, one that's painfully familiar. She hates them, all of them.

_Embrace your feelings, apprentice._ The words slip into her thoughts easily, effortlessly. Rey swallows quickly, her eyes still pressed closed. She hasn't adjusted fully to the sensation of Kylo Ren's presence. Or him calling her "apprentice."

_Control your thoughts. Do not let them disturb your concentration._

Easier said than done. Rey sucks in a deep breath before renewing her efforts. She is immersed in the Force, meditating on her decisions. She can ignore the itch on her elbow, the slight sensation of motion from the sub-light engines. Rey acknowledges her emotions quietly seething somewhere behind her eyes but refuses to delve into them.

Once her focus is renewed, Rey has no problem sinking fully into the tumultuous power that is the Force. Flares of emotions, bright and familiar from all those months ago on Ahch-To do not jar her connection. She embraces those flashes of humanity and allows herself to become one with them.

_The Jedi fear emotion. They demonize anger, joy, love, and fear in equal measure._

Rey does not fear her emotions or those of her master. He has shown her how to strengthen herself with them, to condense the energy that is contained in rage and fury into power, to temper joy to a razor-thin knife, to compound the sadness licking at her heart into something _other_.

She will be no one's weapon except her own.

\---

Snarling, hissing, biting. Their sabers clash in brilliant arcs of color that blind, that dazzle until it is too painful to look upon their duals.

Rey folds first. Her legs buckle and she awaits the swipe of Kylo's saber. It doesn't come. She's still expecting the double-cross. He is patient, allowing her to rise once again and step into guard position.

He is utterly emotionless behind his mask, an enigma that Rey doesn't have the energy to puzzle out. She doesn't care to, either. Now is not the time to take Kylo Ren apart. It is time for her to rebuild her own self.

Block by block, Rey must assemble herself. She doesn't hunt for each piece, allowing them to come to her. Kylo has shown her the power she can pull from her past. She has revealed her own cruelty. Passion, carelessness, patience. What new fragment will be discovered next?

Rey swipes aside Kylo's thrust with a twisting parry, edging in to strike at his side. Leather singes and she steps away hurriedly.

The lesson doesn't end. She hasn't hurt her mentor. Kylo starts his onslaught once more, no less agile in his motions.

Later as she meditates Rey thinks back on the exchange. The stab of worry that she felt stands out. It takes several hours of losing herself to the push and pull of emotion, memory, and the Force to understand the root of it. Compassion is the answer to a question that Rey refuses to ask.

She buries the emotion deeper within herself. One day she may confront it again, but not today.

\---

The general does not trust her. Rey had no opinion of the general.

He looks her over with narrowed eyes and curt replies. Hux relays orders to her when Kylo has been sent away. Every command is cut with undertones of disappointment despite the fact that she hasn't done anything yet. Rey returns his scrutiny with a stone-faced determination.

It is from the general's briefing that she learns that "Commander Dameron" has lead a team against one of the Order's nearby communications arrays. Tempered rage has her hands shaking. She takes the assignment without further needling from the general, requisitioning half a squadron of TIEs to scramble and follow her shuttle.

Her crew leaps to follow her every command, driven by pure desire to follow orders given to the utmost highest potential. No need for self-sacrificing pursuits of justice or crusades.

"Sir, we're approaching the planet. There are several fighters on patrol," a private scurries from the bridge to address Rey in her quarters. Their salute trembles just so. Rey smooths the front of her uniform shirt and nods. She has more to worry about than one woman's opinion of her. A task has been set in front of her which she cannot fail.

If Dameron succeeds in keeping a hold on the communications array, there will be questions to Rey's competency, her loyalty. Failure is _not_ an option. She will not return to imprisonment.

"Form up and strike in two units. Bring the shuttle directly behind the first wave; We're going to hit them hard before they can turn tail and run."

It is done exactly as she orders. Blaster fire scorches her shuttle's hull until the initial swarm of TIEs can take down the planet side cannons. Then it is smooth sailing, landing on a pad which is just barely held by grim faced Resistance members bearing handheld blasters. A paltry show of force.

It would be wise to hang back and let her ground crew handle them. Wiser than exposing herself and getting struck down by a lucky shot. The Force curls and licks at her palms, invisible tendrils waiting to strike upon her command. Pausing kills several minutes. Rey feels certain in her decision, encouraged by some unnamed instinct.

They can advance deep into the heart of the communications complex. Really, it's an outpost with a satellite dish latched to the tip of a prefabricated spire. Defenses were weak to begin with. The Order has retaliated on the Resistance's claim in under ten hours and it is clear by how little the Resistance has done to establish new defenses.

When Rey slides her saber deep into a Resistance fighter's chest, she knows they are grateful for the rest. Now they can stop waging a war against the relentless tide of the Order. They will find peace. Advancing forward, her senses stretch forth beyond the busy corridor. Commander Dameron hasn't boarded his ship. His duties as mission command would extend beyond his precious flyboy tricks.

The smile that slices along her jaw is feral. Their prey has holed themselves up in the main transmission chamber. It's the key position needed to hold the dish. It's also accessible by a single path, the one that Rey is storming with her troopers.

Foolish. They cannot hope to outlast the onslaught that trails Rey's footsteps. Screaming engines mark the entry of her reinforcements.

The halls are rancid with fear the closer she moves to Dameron. None are spared from their red bolted destiny. Rey deflects a bolt aimed for her head lazily. Pathetic. A last-ditch herd of Resistance fighters crowds at the door. Their form is terrible; gaps pepper their hastily constructed shielding.

When one single woman stands alive among her comrades, Rey holds up a fist to signal her troopers to cease firing. A flick of her saber manipulates the Force to disarm the last person to stand between herself and success.

_Look deep within the flames of fury and find your true strength._

Tempering her rising anger is difficult, but Rey does so. The Force rages against her sudden constriction, whispering wordless desires to burn, to consume, to destroy the Resistance until it is a smoldering pile of ash beneath her boots.

"Bring me Dameron and you will live," she offers. Her desires rail against this show of mercy even as she waits for the reply.

The Resistance woman turns her head and spits on the ground. "Burn in hell, traitor," she snarls. She is indignant, insolent even as she is beaten.

Rey recoils as she recognizes her own reflection in the rebel's eyes. Comfort comes as she thrusts herself into the building fear and recklessness that mounts in the Force, abandoning her weakness to become one with the backbone of the universe. Thinking comes second to action. Rey strides forward, kicking aside scorched limbs. Her hand comes up to grip the woman's chin.

Forcing the woman to meet her eyes, Rey sends a tendril of Force and thought into her mind. Agony registers in the reptilian center of her brain, overtaking any further glimpse of resistance. Rey has taken a sword where a scalpel would do, eviscerating conscious thought as she seeks the code needed to wrench the doors open.

The body falls with hardly any sound, cushioned by the dead. Rey has to take a moment to re-center herself within her own skin, fingers flexing and chest heaving. Duty pushes her forward to enter the security code and encounter Dameron's last standing troops.

She respects his willingness to fight beside his fellow doomed soldiers, calling out warnings and war cries in equal measure. It is his martyrdom that brings him to his knees in front of Rey, having taken a bolt to his thigh for a man who just as soon lost his head by way of her saber.

The fight concludes as swiftly as it began and there is a vacuum as all noise ceases. The air throbs in Rey's ears as she approaches the restrained commander.

She crouches to meet his eyeline, smirking when one of the troopers cinches his arms behind him more firmly. It forces him to look up in an attempt to relieve stress on his heavy chest. "I didn't believe it when I saw you walk through those doors. You were supposed to be dead, Rey." Dameron spits his words more than he speaks them. Blood spatters his chin, and Rey can feel the spray on her own cheeks.

"You should kill me. Death would be better than living to see you like this," he continues to babble. "What did they tell you? That you were helping the galaxy? _We're_ the ones fixing everything. They destroyed the Republic. They killed an entire star system in cold blood."

Rey doesn't respond. The backhand across his cheek is unnecessary; she can knock him out with a bit of pressure on his neck or with a tendril of thought. Her strike splits his lip though, and it along with the slowly swelling bruise will ruin his pretty, pretty face.

She turns away from him, ordering a trooper to detain him in the brig. His body crumples to the ground with a groan when one strikes him from behind. Rey can't shake the thrum of satisfaction that follows.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey deals with their new captive. He has some choice words for her that she doesn't want to hear.

Dameron is accustomed to the restraints. Rey’s lip curls as she watches her captive through the tinted glass window. They are back on the  _ Finalizer _ , its sub-light engines pulsing gently to keep them from drifting closer to or farther from the station they’re orbiting. Rey can feel them as easily as she can feel Dameron’s pulse or the empty void of space. 

“He’s been conscious for several hours now,” an officer explains to Rey. She knows. She could feel his angry grief for the entire trip back to the ship. The officer pauses before continuing. “He hasn’t said anything of interest, though he  _ has _ been mentioning you.” 

Rey nods. “I’m not surprised,” she muses. “We did know one another. Clearly not well enough though.” The officer isn’t certain if they should laugh or not. Rey spares them the agony of deciding by leaving the observation room. She hovers by the entrance to the interrogation chamber, adjusting the collar of her jacket. It’s chafing again. The cleaners must have shrunken it. 

Looking at the small camera above the door, Rey waves for the door to be opened. She moves inside silently. Dameron laughs bitterly when he turns to see her there. “I thought they might send you, if only to mess with me,” he scoffs. “Not that I think you can do any worse than my last  _ friend _ from the order.”

Rey sits across from him, ignoring his goading. He is expecting her to begin their conversation with words and point jabs. This will not be a conversation. Rather than engaging him, she begins to delve into his mind. Leaning against her palm, her demeanor utterly relaxed, Rey knows that she doesn’t seem the terrible dark force that Poe has last seen.

His emotions are easiest to read. Anger, hurt, and a deep-seated thrum of grief almost overwhelm Rey. She eases off her probing, taking in only a portion of the ocean of emotions that Poe Dameron possesses. How tiresome his mourning is. It soaks into everything, coating his recent memories in a sickly sheen. Rey sees the faces she and her squadron eliminated as friends, cohorts, and companions. The loss could easily turn to guilt, has already begun to crack Dameron.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Dameron demands. Rey exhales. He may not yet realize that she’s in his mind. Red-tinted anger flares over his thoughts; he wants answers from her. The more that she refuses, the more his frustration doubles over onto itself. “Coward.”

“Survivor,” Rey bandies back. She can’t avoid speaking forever. “I was left to die by the Resistance.” The term brings Dameron’s thoughts back to the rag-tag group, if only by reflex. Finn’s face and voice feature prominently in the scattered memories that arise. Then they’re gone, replaced again by the anger and loss. Rey licks her lips. She can trace them back to where they are in his mind. He’s left a trail.

Of course, he’s still talking. Ranting, rambling about how they couldn’t figure out where she’d fallen. Spies being ferreted out, failed rescue attempts on varying Order prison camps. Rey barks out a bitter laugh, a mirror of his earlier. “I wasn’t just any pilot. They knew that. They  _ knew  _ my value,” she says. 

The more that Dameron struggles to convince her that they care, the more that he reveals. Fighter bases he launched from - different and new from the ones that Rey flew out of. Command centers. Communication relays. Rey soaks up the intel eagerly. It’s circling the target she’s desperate to seize. If she can find where the heart and soul of the Resistance is-

“I don’t know where Leia is,” Dameron insists suddenly. Rey blinks, slipping out from his mind. Her fingers have tightened on her face, nails biting into flesh. The pain had not even occurred to her. Her grip on her own illusion is shattered.

Rey bares her teeth in a mockery of a smile. “You knew,” she says.

“Before you came in. I know  _ my  _ value,” Dameron snaps back. “Why else would you have spared me at all?”

“I didn’t spare you.” She dives back into his mind. Her task isn’t completed yet. If she could bring Leia to General Hux on a platter, she would seal herself as significant and useful to the man. And the Resistance would crumble, their one constant voice of hope and reason ripped from them. 

Dameron is smarter than she had realized, and Rey feels her grip on the interrogation slide away like water through a sieve. “You don’t belong here,” Dameron pleads. She sees herself, not in stiff Order blacks but soft brown clothes, laughing and smiling with him and Finn. Her, hopping into a fighter to defend a medical convoy under fire. A comforting voice over the comms; when Rey’s in the air with him, Poe can’t fail. 

“Come back to the light.”

She had such potential. A masterful flier. Force user. A potential torch for the Resistance to show, much as they did with Finn, that the light really did exist. Good people could do good things and help one another. She left before realizing any of that damned lost  _ potential. _

Rey stands and throws herself back into her own body. Across from her is a pleading, hopeful man bound and bloody. A man consumed by grief for a hundred dead friends. Her handiwork. 

She should be shaking but her hands are still and unmoving on the table. “You don’t know who I am,” Rey whispers. Somehow her feet obey her commands and she forces herself out of the room. Her comm buzzes on her hip. It could have been sounding the whole time. The ground is uneven under her feet. The engines won’t stop humming. 

“Yes?” she snaps.

All she needs to hear is the sharp exhale of irritation to know that she should have taken a moment to center herself before answering. “You have been back for several hours now. I expected a report,” General Hux says. 

Rey closes her eyes and nods. “Of course,” she replies with a dry mouth. “I’m sor-” The channel cuts out before she can finish her apology. She taps her forehead with the comm as she swallows. There must be some good news that she can bring. The operation was a success, certainly, but her hopes for what Dameron could have brought them has turned that pride to ash in her mouth. 

If she had more control, she might have been successful. Rey shoves the comm away and heads to the closest turbolift. A few nameless officers greet her as she passes before turning to their own work. There is always more to do for the Order. She will have another chance to exceed the general’s expectations. She must. 

The chime to Hux’s office sounds twice as Rey’s hand twitches over the controller. It makes her seem impatient and only further builds on her stress.  _ Breathe _ , she orders herself. She enters and stands in front of the general, her mouth pressed in a thin, white line. 

“I expect more from senior officers,” Hux intones. He hasn’t even looked up from his desk yet, pawing through a pile of datapads to find some specific piece of information. 

Rey nods tightly. “I understand,” she says. She doesn’t mutter - the general has broken her of that habit of underselling her own speech - but she wants to. The desire to run builds in her chest. 

Hux throws a datapad across the pile and finally considers Rey. “I don’t like having to hunt down my reports. I waste enough of my time already. Tell me what happened and what kept you from here for so long,” he demands. 

“We arrived within hours of the original strike. There was a limited defense system, easily dismantled by the fighters from the skies,” Rey replies. Quick statements are key. Efficiency is key. She can remain emotionless that way. “Troopers on the ground easily retook the base. There were no remaining Order personnel planetside.

“We did… I did capture one of the commanders. Dameron, the pilot.” Rey flounders as she returns to her past actions on the planet. Traitor, the resistance woman had called her. Carmella, her name was. Rey had fought to keep from learning it, but Dameron - kriffing  _ Dameron _ \- has told her through his memories. 

She’d ruined the woman, Carmella, from inside. Shredding her mind and taking what she’d wanted. Rey feels her mouth open now, knows that Hux is frowning in front of her. He is not patient. His ire is growing. 

But Rey, Rey the Resistance fighter pilot, wants to run away. She wasn’t this person. Yet Rey now stands here, her fist clenched in one palm standing at attention to the  _ Starkiller _ himself. This was her choice, is her choice. The Force ripples and flexes with her mental gymnastics. Somewhere, perhaps galaxies away, Kylo’s presence flares in response. Rey cannot find him, cannot find anything other than her own tiny self drowning in the sea of the Force. 

“Initial interrogations haven’t been successful, but I think in short order we’ll be able to extract information from Dameron,” Rey spits. She has to rush through the words for fear of falling prey to the void that threatens to consume her. “Including the location of General Leia Organa.”

Hux’s answer is lost on Rey as she watches his growing, sly grin with unseeing eyes.

Rey is gasping for air, treading water, and all the while she must stand at attention to report on her success. Her ears are ringing long after the concussive blasts from the battle have faded. Gravity threatens to upend her. Still the general talks on, digressing in his debrief to thoroughly commend her wisdom in delivering a high ranking officer alive. 

“Excuse me,” Rey breathes, interrupting without a care for the repercussions. She can’t keep standing here. Rey darts to a small door, shoving it shut behind her. The ‘fresher lights turn on automatically, cold and clinical. 

It’s almost, no it’s definitely worse in here. Her breathing echoes off of the flat surfaces to ring in Rey’s ears. And her reflection is unavoidable. The massive mirror that hangs above the sink shows every frantic twitch that Rey makes. She lurches forward to the sink. Each move is bookended by deep breaths and a sensation of being frozen in place. 

Rey turns the water on and stares as it gushes down the drain. Sticking her hands underneath, the cold brings some sense of ground to her panic. She brings two handfuls to her mouth to drink and a third to splash over her face. Then she leans over the basin to meet her own eyes again. 

It’s murder to regard her own expression. No, not her expression. She knows the strained mask she wears. That isn’t new. 

It’s her face. She is not so different from the Rey that Dameron knew, the one who called Finn and Poe her friends. The one who coveted the time they had for one another. The one who should have died defending the door down on that planet. 

She looks too weak and familiar. Rey growls and wipes at the water on her face. It doesn’t change what she sees. There’s still that self that Dameron saw as such potential for the Resistance. Snarling, Rey rips the ties out of her hair. 

She doesn’t want to be that person. She  _ isn’t _ Rey the Resistance fighter. They didn’t deserve Rey. Dameron and FN- _ kriffing _ -2187 just saw her as a tool for them. They let her be taken and didn’t care enough to save her. Couldn’t be bothered to pay her the same favor that she did. 

Her reflection mocks her still. Rey will fix it. She has to. Her blade comes out. The stench of burnt hair fills the small chamber only to be whisked away in a rush of the fan. 

There’s a pounding on the door. Rey blinks. She’s slid to the floor and her saber’s handle is feet away. The floor under her thrums with the hyperspace engines. They are no longer in orbit. How much time has passed? 

“I’m fine,” Rey chokes out. 

“Liar,” Kylo growls from the other side. It’s low and quiet, but Rey recognizes his voice instantly. Louder, he says, “The general suggests you may want to retire to your own quarters?” There’s a question there. Of course there is. Rey has thoroughly burned through any credibility she may have earned by this stunt. 

She lurches to her feet and brushes the fallen hunks of hair into the trash. Her saber leaps to her hand with a flick of her wrist. The Force has calmed in her mind as has her own frantic emotions. Her reflection stares back at her as she touches the door handle. 

Her hair is a sharp relief from what it once was. It barely grazes the tips of her ears. With a bit of trimming she could pass for any of the officers that she passes. A warmth coils in her stomach. No one would confuse her for a rebel any longer. 

Rey brushes off her shoulders and slides the door open. “I apologize for my… disappearance. It won’t happen again.”


End file.
